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While the clan basked in the glory of Lo’ak’s catch, gutting and cutting the large akula to feast upon. Your hand wavered at the sight of the fang he had given you earlier. You knew what it meant when the warrior had given you a tooth, you were not foolish as to not have heard whispers of courting and the sign of acceptance would be seen if the receiver wore it as a necklace. Yet, it didn’t even cross your mind that Lo’ak would give you one. Your heart was pounding loudly as soon as he clasped your hands in his to place the prize in hand. 

“I got this for you.” You looked at him in shock, eyes wide and jaws held together tightly. “To replace the knife I lost when we first met.”

You were certain he would give it to the daughter of the tsahik, Tsireya. He has known her far longer and the line of suitors the young na’vi has is certainly no joking matter. Tsireya is as graceful as the sea breeze, as calm as the lakes, and as gentle as the raindrops kiss. And you liked Tsireya for that, she is your friend after all. But you… you were as hostile, filled with the fury of a burning fire, you were not as naive and narrow-minded as you were back then. 

The curious old you was far more open to the world around you, evident with your once openness to learning. You were called stubborn and hot-headed by your own mother when you refused to study the ways of being your own clan. Everything was too backwards, you rejected the scars and rather see the glittering of white on your skin as it is illuminated by the small bioluminescence left in your home.  Your sisters knew your wicked tongue, words that are calculative to getting what you want and cruel with honesty; but behind your tough exterior, they knew the tenderness that is buried beneath. When you think about it, the old you felt like eons ago. You have changed. Now you bore the marks of your clan, wanting it to be seen carved in your flesh. Erase the beauty of Eywa and listen to your mother’s calling. You look at the bindings that were supposed to wrap your chest, dainty and yet deadly at the same time, as it binds you to reject Eywa. 

You were not like the young na’vi your age, you had seen war and death firsthand while you traveled to unknown territories. Back then you promised yourself that you would leave as soon as Naru was healed, yet here you are. You stayed and you learned for the young forest boy, the boy who resembled the demons that destroyed your home. With him, you felt the same pain and rage. You were bound to him, chasing the sense of understanding within each other. The deep connection, a mere reflection of young children who have seen war and death with their own eyes, who have tasted blood at the tips of their tongues and the same grief. You weren’t certain about these uncharted waters that suddenly bursted out in the open. You tried your best to keep it within, these– these feelings for the forest boy that has shown nothing but sincerity. And that scared you. 

Everything was a mess. A conflict from within. Eywa has never been kind to you, and yet by chance, by Her pure will, she is. Your mother will shame you. The fire, the volcano that burned your home was what your mother had taught you. The scars, the paint, the ash, the smoke and the flame all holds you dear to what you have been.

You were only ever told how to handle how to deal weapons and how to hunt. You had been taught how to sharpen a knife, how to tie a knot, how to make a flame, how to skin a prey. You were never taught to be gentle. Now you yearned for the indescribable, you look for a love that holds you tenderly. Here you were craving a semblance of a warm home. And here, the traces of the word grieving and to move past from the hurt is something that you crave. 

With him and you the only boundaries that held you back were your own heartbeats. With him you were not just a daughter of ember, a warrior, with him it almost feels like you are alive. No one has ever come close to the boundaries, to your harsh shells and here he was doing everything and beyond. You had trusted him even with your shame, the fear, the hurt, the grieving, the bad. And he had shown him yours too, both bared your scars right in front of each other. He who knows how you feel even with a mere glance. He who had listened to you talk about your home with eagerness and understanding. He, who has trespassed the threshold of uncertainty and become someone you cannot describe in mere simple words. 

And the truth terrified you.

With him you were bare bones and flesh, scars and all the hurt. 

This was not it. This wasn’t right. You are on your way to reject and curse Eywa. This is not meant to be, and you will reject it, with every fighting bone you have left. With what your mother had engraved with you as he placed the first scar, a mark of a warrior littered on your skin. Accept what is our will, you carve your own path with fire and ash. And you will leave cinder.

You know now what to do. You need to go. Fidgeting with the tooth in your hand, you tied it within your pouch and hid it in your own marui before being interrupted by Kiri and Tuk. Their eyes drifted to the beads you wore that covered your neck whole and the lining of the beads went encircling your arms. Sully’s kids were in awe, it was the first time you have worn the beads they weave with Tsireya, colors that were reflected fire dancing across the open air. And in your hands were coal spread across from the tips of your fingers to your forearms. The last semblance of a home is the crafted two large knives, its shaped far different than what are accustomed knives. This was the final stage of a warrior, to craft their own bladed weapon. This was used to call upon your clan’s spirit. Far different from calling Eywa, this was used to call and to ask for sight.

Kiri called upon your name. And as you saw eye to eye, an instant recognition as you held your only semblance of your own home. You had to leave all of Awa’atlu behind, when all is basking in their hunt, their festivities, you will walk away and Naru will follow you with every beck and call. You pushed past Kiri and whistled upon your creature that rested deep in the mangroves. Within a few seconds a thundering beat of drums and cheers erupted in the village. “No. You must stay please.” Kiri had begged, and yet you looked at her intently. “Move Kiri. Or you will be forcefully removed from my sight.” Naru had come to you and with precisely fastened steps, you heard little Tuk calling to your name asking where you would go. And Lo’ak none the wiser, had been walking to your marui. He was beaming in joy with his hunt, and you weren’t there at the village to join in on the fun. Too elated Lo’ak had not seen the way you are holding your belongings in a tight-grip, he hasn’t sensed the determination for you to leave.

Just like that fateful day, you heard it loud and clear as it approached Awa’atlu’s shores. The loud whirring noise that made your heart drop. You can feel your blood run cold as the anger in your heart starts to rise. A noise you're far too familiar not to forget, those were the same noise that dropped the loud explosion in your own homes.

You saw Kiri and Tuk go towards the flying contraption with smiles on their faces, and words all turn into white noise as Lo’ak sees something shift in your eyes. The joy in their faces was far more different from the rage that painted your face. Lo’ak turned around to see a figure, the same height as him, along with Max and Norm’s na’vi form. Your eyes were directed straightly on the young na’vi, whose features Lo’ak could see were the resemblance of a friend, Spider.

With the dual-wielded blades in hand, your tunnel vision goes on to that young na’vi dressed in clothes of someone barely trying to fit in. Like the ones that destroyed your homes. He was the embodiment of those that killed your family, he reflected the demons that caused you to be far from home. Tightening your grip on your own blades, you will make sure that the last breath of the demon is by your own hands.

“Lo’ak!” Spider waved as his eyes shifted toward yours. You whistled upon your own bonded creature.

“Spider, run!” Lo’ak said as you dashed towards the demon at full speed. Spider immediately turned towards the mangroves; he didn't even try to take a peek as to what was chasing him. One thing is for certain: this person wants him dead. 

You gave chase at the young abomination, a cruel link to what could destroy your home in a flash. It, whatever it is, will bleed.

As soon as he saw a vine, he climbed and climbed. He willed himself to stay still, blend among the surroundings. What he saw was a creature far larger than an ikran and almost resembling those Komodo dragons he once saw on his books back at the lab. But when the creature dashed by, there was no rider. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest as he tried to stop his erratic breathing. 

Crawling across the branch, with the quietness of a cat, he tried to scan his surroundings. Spider didn’t know where he was or how far he went, but the burning sensation of running in this body was truly fantastic as it seemed to fare better than his human one.

Lo’ak on the other hand, had called upon his father that you were chasing Spider. He immediately called Norm to get a tranquilizer to make you calm. He knows you were furious and the only thing that could stop you was to get you to sleep. He couldn’t fight you, he knows that. You were a warrior through and through, even if he were trained under the scrutiny of a marine, you on the other hand were fueled by rage. When Lo’ak had called upon his father, he had lost sight of you among the mangroves. Everything was far too quiet, and Lo’ak feared for the worst.

Lo’ak called upon your name and Spider. In the distance, Spider’s ears perked as soon as he heard his friend. Craning his neck to look for the direction of Lo’ak calling upon him, he strains his neck to scout out his na’vi friend. And that slight movement was the opening all that you needed. You had jumped from a tree right into Spider’s vicinity, the dual blade had acted as your anchor from slipping all the way down, and on your other hand you maim right at his kuru. Spider kept his defenses up, and yet he was struggling with this newly acquired body, he immediately slipped down from the vine in shock, as he had fallen slump and hard to the ground.

Lo’ak had seen Spider’s fall and knew you were close. And Lo’ak didn’t realize that you were way too close as you had jumped down both dual blades in your hand as you growled aim over your head, ready to slice whatever who was who had fallen. Lo’ak had tackled you before you even took a swing at Spider, the force knocking both the blades in your hands. You growled at him. “Let me go Lo’ak!” You pushed him hard, as his grip was far better than yours. You were completely on the ground, shaken and crying? You were crying. For whatever reason, you were shedding tears. The truth is you trusted Lo’ak and now he had shown that he was siding with this? Whatever it is, completely enamored by Eywa’s plans and how everything is far too confusing to you. “Spider is my friend… he is a part of our family.” He said, as he looked straight into your eyes. All you want to do is to go home. The comfort of your old home, calling to you like it had never before, you didn’t want this uncertainty. Everything that has come in between, whatever the outcome may be, you will push and push for it to leave you be. Forrest boy was never your friend. All was a sweet sweet lie, to blind you from the truth that maybe being one with Eywa would heal the hurt all buried. You had been willing to learn the ways of Awa’atlu and your mother would scorn and hate you for every moment of it, you were far worse than those who had been outcast. You were a hypocrite, basking in the sweet lies and lull of gentleness of Eywa that your clan never have received. 

This was all a lie. All of it. And you were never supposed to be here, never was your path to be guided by Eywa’s kindness. It was supposed to be rocky with scars and marks of change, to not be seen as the people who have been grounded by nature. 

The marks on your skin was a telltale that you will reject it, you will not bend to her will. You feel so ashamed, so dirty, this is not your way. Fire is forged, you mark your way and reject all that is Eywa’s way. Your mother would’ve never claimed you back with what you have become. You were a traitor even to your own clan.

You know what to do. 

With one harsh push, you shove Lo’ak to the ground and with the precision of a warrior, as you scramble to get one of your blades. Forged from the natures of the ground, your kuru in the other. You stood tall, just like the warriors from home, the fire within you will not die.

“I don’t trust you.” Your voice sounded so small, so wounded than what you wanted it to be. You needed to be cold.

You were so full of rage that when the terrible truth is presented in your hand you became something worse, you became ashamed.

This was you accepting that you had bended willingly to Eywa, you were something to be ashamed of. And if your clan knows, you have to do one last honorable thing not to shame your mother anymore. Grabbing the kuru from the base of your neck and the dual blade in hand, you prepare yourself for the inevitable honor of death.

And with love rivals one thing, and one thing only. O, Death Will your embrace come to me cold?

A/N: welcome to act 3 :) ive been struggling how to fix the story since ash clan is now known as mangkwan clan…. backc then I TRIED AND TRIED TO RESEARCH WHAT NAMES FOR THEM TO FIT BUT U CAN TELL IVE BEEN STRUGGLING. and im just gonna work my way around the new movie to implement and place it in this story

You would’ve asked. And right at the moment, Theseus needed not to think about the future, he would say yes. 

He didn’t understand why or how it came to be.  You were an angel of seduction, smiling at him with a hand outstretched. Only for your eyes to not gleam like he wanted to.

This was a sweet— sweet lie. 

What stands in front of him was not you. Merely a shadow of wistful thinking. This was just Theseus’ imagination playing tricks on him. A mere wish from the heart.

Is it because he has been through war for years, and the only sign of romantic attraction he had was back when he was still in Hogwarts, rejected because he was not from the House of Slytherin. This was not a school-boy crush; this relationship—whatever it is he is threading into is such a dangerous game. And this far surpasses such simple childish attractions.

How easy it is for you to tear him apart, break his mind, graze your teeth on his pulse, and make him bleed, but instead, you chose not to. It was pathetic to think he came apart so quickly, he wasn’t always like this. He was a child of war, and he had seen it first hand. And Theseus trusted you fully, baring his heart, mind, and soul.

You only wanted one thing: safety. He can see right in your eyes, the freedom; the ability to walk out of this unscathed. And Theseus would gladly give it to you if it meant the world. The responsibility of keeping you safe didn’t feel like a burden; it was a promise he was willing to burn the world for. 

And for his vow to be true, he needed a way in—just like you thought him, he needed leverage to offer to Madame Blanche, something she does not have. If this was the only way you’d ever get to leave, then he was ready to get his hands dirty.

To be standing right where it began, he looked at the looming structure of  Amour Délicat. The over-nauseating scent of floral-filled his senses, the bite of the cold air was fueling his nerves to a full. This time, he feared, let him grovel to the ground and beg to let you go. He would look into your eyes and, this time, he will ask for you to run away.

Running away with him? Might be a fool's wish. 

Then consider him a fool.

Although there seems to be quite a predicament, Theseus is currently facing two problems. The first is that there is a recent development about the case of the missing delegate. 

Charles Moore had been found. A big problem is that he is dead, located in the muggle world with traces of cruciatus curse lingering on their mangled body. When Theseus and Torquil Travers heard the news, they immediately knew that this was done by someone who wanted to know that their threats were not to be taken lightly. If they had dumped his body right on the grounds of the muggles, then they were a threat, someone who is not afraid to showcase magical acts in front of non-magical people. Someone who wants the world to know about them, the wizarding world.

And the biggest problem he is currently facing is that you haven’t talked to him in two weeks, no letters or planned rendezvous. You must have known what happened to the missing delegate and presumed that your job with Theseus was done, therefore, ceasing contact. Theseus vowed he would provide you safety, and right now you had gone back into hiding; you must have felt disappointed with him. And Theseus who never grew desperate, who always has his head on his shoulders, is running out of options.

Just like the first week he had met you. He came barging right in, and the receptionist's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of the auror. Madame Blanche had posted details about being wary of British Aurors getting information, but it did not pass by the woman’s mind. Since the auror came alone, it must be just another customer wanting a night of debauchery, giving him her customer service smile.

“Welcome to Amour Délicat, where the finest maidens and bachelors are always catered to your liking. How can we be of service?” 

Like a practiced mantra, the receptionist did not miss a beat. Theseus looked at her, then the surrounding areas, not scanning like it was a crime scene rather looking for something… or someone.

“You wish to avail a particular flower, then?” Her voice became white noise to Theseus' senses as he looked for you in the nook and cranny of the lounge. After a minute, Theseus returned to his senses and stared right back at the woman before him.

“No. I am here to gather an audience with Madame Blanche.” That was unpredictable.

“Oh! Then I’ll put you on hold. I need to talk to Madame about your presence. I’ll let you know if she declines your request.” It was clear to Theseus he was unwanted here. After making a ruckus the last time he was here, the young lady at the receptionist must have thought he was here for a service. With a nod, Theseus waited as the young woman walked towards the backroom.

Theseus turned around once more; even with broad daylight Amour Délicat was still full of clients roaming about. If it weren’t for the kind of establishment Amour Délicat has, this would've looked like a regular instance, but the patrons that walked in and out were enshrouded in the anonymity of their privacy. Faces covered by hoods were probably from a line of work that valued discreteness; meanwhile, Theseus and many others were unprepared or were simply here for pleasure, their faces evident in the light, unaware of the possibility of showing face.

Right at the main lounge, the dooming sound of the elevator from Madame Blanche sounded turning around Theseus expected it was Madame Blanche, but the footsteps were far heavier. Far too commanding. 

As soon as the piercing gray eyes of the man landed on Theseus, his eyes lit up with recognition.

“If it isn’t the world-renowned war hero, Mr. Scamander.” The man smiled as he stepped straight towards the auror. As soon as the man looked Theseus eye-to-eye, the auror couldn’t but list all the people he had known throughout his lifetime.

“I apologize. I might’ve come off as brash. Could not help myself to be ecstatic to meet the man who violated Archer Evermonde's emergency legislation. Takes a lot of nerve to help the non-magical people and be an enemy of the wizarding world.” The man held out his right hand, ready to introduce himself. “I’m Baudelaire, Pierre Baudelaire.” 

André Baudelaire, the French Minister of Magic. Theseus has only seen him twice in his lifetime, and it was evident with their eyes that Pierre was his son. Eyes that loomed over anyone who looked their way.

Theseus gave him his professional smile and shook Pierre's hand firmly. 

“I wouldn’t say I was the enemy of the wizarding community; I did what I had to do to help those in need.” Theseus, ever the hero, replied. Letting go of Pierre’s hand as the other man hummed. 

“A noble cause for their people… and to be awarded as a hero.” Pierre hummed. “I say the muggles certainly live a different life, wouldn’t you say so? Passing their time through a game of darts.”

“That I would not deny, they taught me how to play a game of cards. They certainly know how to amuse themselves. I assume you to had a fair-share of their cuisine as well?” Theseus, merely inquiring, looked at the man in glee.

“Their liquor was not strong… that I would remark. Although, I was not able to stay for long unlike you had done. A simple tavern.” Pierre smiled. “Alas, I hope I am not wasting your time Mr. Scamander. You must have been here for important matters.” The man started to end the conversation and gave one last pointed look at Theseus. 

“I do not mind Mr. Baudelaire, it was nice talking to you.” Theseus nodded, as soon as the man was out of sight. The faint footsteps of the  faint footsteps of the receptionist came to call for him. Just like the first-time Theseus walked into the halls of the establishment, he was led to lift that had a painting of white flowers dancing in the breeze.

For his second time being in the establishment, he realized what the flowers represented. All the small details, from the catalog of the courtesans being flowers and how your floor was decorated like the night sky. 

And there in the middle of the room sat Madame Blanche, hands on her head as she stared at the papers scattered throughout the desk. It was a far cry from what she looked like the first time they met. Instead of the refined successful woman that greeted the aurors back then, what sat at the chair was a lady far too unkept and stressed beyond her years. Madame Blanche looked like she had too much on her plate as she stared at the unopened envelope with such intensity. And right at the floor was the lone flower out from its vase, water spilling right through the carpeted floors. 

“I presume you are here for another problem, pray tell and hurry on with it. I don’t have all day to deal with you Englishmen. What do you want?” With a wave of her hand, she stared at Theseus annoyed by his presence. 

“I am here to talk about—”

“Here to propose to me your grandiose dreams of buying the indenture of one of my Bouquet de Blanc? Spare me the details Mr. Scamander, she is not for sale, never will be.” Madame Blanche procured a bottle of fire whiskey. 

Theseus' eyes narrowed, straightening his tie. 

She is not for sale, never will be.  

It was easy like that to claim your freedom and yet far from your reach, far from Theseus’ fingertips were the vows he promised you. You did not deserve that, your eyes craved the walls of freedom, the breeze of the wind as you ran away without looking back to your former job. You deserve to be free, to love like a normal human being and yet you are chained body and soul to a job you must have grown to hate.

From surviving the streets, begging crumbs off the hands of the wealthy, and now you were bound to be here forever.

“And why is that? May I ask. You let the other courtesan go easily? Why can’t she?” Theseus argued, eyes fueling with rage as the woman who sat before him only drank in her cup. With a deep sigh, the piercing stare of Madame Blanche went straight at Theseus, legilimency cursing through his veins as he felt the woman crept into his mind but Theseus knew not to yield. He had prior training, and to see what is in his mind is what his weakness scares him, you taught him that he needed leverage in every fight and he is fighting like he was back in war to protect his mind, to protect you. 

“Because with you being a simple lowly auror could never afford her Mr. Scamander.” Madame Blanche scoffed, as her attempts to pry the doors of memories, thoughts and feelings remained unopened to the keys of her legilimency. 

Her words as sharp as knives, as painful as the unforgivable curse spat right out into the open air.

“You are here to offer her love? What can that feed?” Madame Blanche stood up glaring right at Theseus. 

“Oh! You wish for a home? Do you think you can protect her with brick walls made of love? Or you wish to have a family consisting of three? Do you think your children will ask why her mother kept so many secrets? Or how about enemies? You think with all the secrets she knows, there would be no one in the world who would want her dead the moment she stepped foot outside of these very walls? How about when she becomes a mother? Do you think she can handle caring for a child when all she has known in her life is to fight for what she needs… to beg in the streets… Do you think she will be gentle like how your mother was to you? How about you, will you be able to stay through her worst throughout your whole life?” 

Theseus was silent.

“Foolish, that’s what you are Mr. Scamander. I have met the exact fools like you once, and he ended up being a disappointment.” Madame Blanche whispered, her words growing cold in the wind as did her fingertips that grazed lightly in his shoulder.

“You’re wrong.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I came here for her freedom not for love. I came here not to act as a hero rather as a helping hand. Yes, I am foolish but I’ll fight through Azkaban and back to give her what she desperately wants… and if you can’t see that then you must be the foolish one.”

Madame Blanche paused when Theseus stood up and looked at him straight in her eyes. He is indeed a respectable young man, too heroic for his age, too naive of the hurt he will walk through as soon as he opens the doors of Pandora's box of letting you free. Yet, Madame Blanche admired him for that.

“As much, as this meeting is amusing to me Mr. Scamander, I do commend you for standing your ground. You are too naive—” As Madame Blanche walked towards her chair. 

Theseus has seen it, Madame Blanche’s eyes. “You two are the same.”

“You are great liars, but there is a slight tell-tale of the both of you lying. I can see right through it without needing to pry your mind. Like mother… like daughter.” The truth coming right off Theseus lips like waterfall as the whole room has gone cold.

“What did you say?” Madame Blanche remained steadfast unlooking towards Theseus' revelations.

“That’s why you have gone to great lengths to find her, you wanted to protect your own daughter, and the only way for you to see her safe is to add her in your catalog. You didn’t want anyone prying into your weakness and using her against you. Yet here you are, bare to the world as you remain not looking at me, it’s because it is the truth. Isn’t it, Madame Blanche de Roux?” 

Madame Blanche's jaw went rigid.

“Who was it? How did you know?” Madame Blanche’s stare was far from what she looked earlier, this far by surpass the anger that he had seen earlier. 

“From her.” He didn’t mean it, Theseus never did but whenever you are traversing his minds as you are giving him your memories, another door opens and this time he had seen what looks to be an old door. 

In that memory, curiosity got the better of him as he had seen what seems to be Madame Blanche cooing at the young babe in her arms. But the words he could never understand as the couple before him fought, the only notable about the man was his own uniform of the french auror. There stood in front of him a nameless man, worried lines written all over his feature as he kissed her daughter goodbye. Daughter which features the same face that stood before Theseus. One could never forget.

“Your own daughter unknowingly showed me a memory.”